O God, Wilt Thou Not Despise
by calendaes
Summary: A combination of my two Xander character studies. Will continue from chapter three into actual! Plotted! Story!
1. First Date Post episode

  
  


Title: O God, thou wilt not despise  
Author: Loraineee  
Email: jennyb@Kpunet.net  
Summary: A post-First Date scene between two old friends  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: Some angst, primarily in later chapters  
Spoilers: Takes place after episode 7.14 First Date  
Archiving: Sure, just let me know  
Disclaimer: These characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy  
Author's Notes: This is my first Buffy fanfiction, so be kind...I'm easily freaked.  
  
  
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_The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.  
_

~Psalm 51  
  


When the girls quieted down, Xander clumsily limped into the kitchen, gingerly holding his injured side and trying not to reopen the gaping wound. He needed orange juice and he needed it now. Bleeding over a ancient, uber-evil seal for ten minutes after being stabbed by someone or thing that was supposed to be a nice, normal date but had turned out to be some sort of scary cat demon who wanted to align herself/itself with the First, really took a lot out of a guy. He had that vaguely dizzy and lightheaded feeling that let him know that the adrenaline rush one got from nearly dying was gone and he could already feel his head starting to pound.  
  
In a rare moment of silence in the teen-crowded house, he pulled open the refrigerator, staring into the harsh light. There was no orange juice...of course...there wouldn't be, _he_ needed it. SIghing, he closed the fridge and leaned his forehead on the cold exterior. It felt good. A small moment of pleasure after yet another night filled with humiliation. Another wacky disaster for the Xandman. God, his side was really starting to hurt.  
  
You know, sometimes it's easier to open the door, if you wanna see what's inside, said a cheery, tired voice from behind him. Xander jumped and hesitated slightly before plastering on a smile and turning around to greet her.  
  
Yeah, I know...but you never know when you'll develop x-ray vision. And besides, I already looked. It seems the baby-slayers drank all the orange juice...massive blood loss here. I want a cookie and some juice, but alas, there is no juice to be had. Unless... He raised his eyebrows, giving his best wounded puppy look, which really wasn't hard considering the circumstances.  
  
Fine, sit down. I'll make you some orange juice, but only if you let me take a look at that gash. Xander eased himself down onto a stool, wincing as he arranged himself into the least painful position. We just got that hospital size first aid kit and I've been itching to use it. They've got everything a psuedo-doctor type could want.   
  
He closed his eyes and listened as his best friend rambled on about butterfly bandages and bacitracin as she made his orange juice...his sweet, sweet orange juice. Her flood of words was replaced by a crescendo-ing roar that threatened to overtake him.  
  
Not that I wanted someone to get hurt. I've just really wanted to break it open. She poured out a glass of freshly made OJ. There you go, Xander...Xander! He opened his eyes to see her concerned face. Huh, it'd been a long time since she'd given _him_ that look. You okay?  
  
Yeah...just tired, I guess. He smiled sleepily as he reached for the juice she'd set in front of him. Where'd that come from? He didn't remember her putting that there. Setting that disturbing thought aside, he gulped down the juice, stopping only to breath and set down the glass when he'd drained it of it's contents. More please.  
  
She filled the glass and put down the pitcher. Sighing, she briefly rested her hand against his cheek before brushing his hair out of his eyes. What are we going to do with you, kid? You look like the hellmouth chewed you up and spit you out.  
  
I know. It was really scary, Will. He avoided her gaze as he gulped down his second glass of OJ. I didn't know if I was going to make it...I've been lucky too many times. And with the First around...  
  
Don't talk like that. You've got us...we'll always find you in time. The statement hung in the air. Xander would always need rescuing. She tried to cover it up. Besides, until this deal-y with the First is finished, I think Giles was right. We should be focusing on the fight at hand...not getting distracted by...other things. Also, your gay jokes, not so much with the witty.  
  
Sorry, guess I just wanted to distract everybody from the fact that I almost was killed by my date...again. And had to be saved by Buffy and Spike and, I think, Principal Wood...all very humiliating.  
  
It's all right, I'll let it slide this once. She smiled warmly and took his hand. Come on, let's go check out that gash. I think the bathroom's free. Everyone else has gone to bed.  
  
He followed her up the stairs slowly, both for stealth and because every step pulled on the edges of his wound. Willow, meanwhile, had pulled out the industrial sized first aid kit and set it on the counter, setting out the items she thought she would need the in order of usage. He sat down on the toilet seat and took his coat off, throwing it across the room and onto the floor. I'll pick that up when we're done.   
  
Moving slowly, Willow started to unravel the makeshift bandage around Xander's waist, peeling it away where it had started to stick on the edges of his injury. He looked down and looked away quickly, fighting back the nausea as he saw what he had let happen to his body. It was a ragged cut about two inches long that had stopped bleeding, but it was deep and already inflamed around the edges. he said quietly.  
  
This is pretty bad, Xander. Are you sure you don't need to go to the hospital? Your car's here; I could drive. Willow's face had turned almost as white as Xander's, but she eyed the gash intently, not looking away.  
  
Nah, it's not that deep. That protective layer of fat you were all joking about last year...not so funny now, is it? Why, my love for snack foods saved my life. He hissed as she cleaned the gash with disinfectant, closing his eyes tight against the sting. Okay, that hurts.  
  
Sorry, but you don't want it to get infected. Ooh, after I get this clean, I've got this new dermabond stuff...it's just like super glue, except it's for skin! No stitches for you, cause we've got glue. Hey, that rhymes! She giggled and then caught herself. Okay, I'm a little punchy, but it's three in the morning, so what'd you expect. She finished cleaning the wound and dug around the giant kit for the dermabond, reading the instructions before cracking open the tube and starting to mend his flesh. How'd she get you down in the school basement anyway?  
  
Oh, you know. Offered me sex if I'd be her willing minion, something like that. He grinned at Willow's chagrined expression. I don't really know. I mean, first we were walking out to the car and I thought we were going bowling and then I woke up in a heap on the basement floor. That's when I paged you. Then she took my shirt and the bondage non-fun began.  
  
Xander couldn't draw his eyes away from Willow's handiwork. She'd finished closing the injury and only a pencil thin redline remained. Well, aside from the red inflamed flesh that surrounded his gut wound. Wow...that's kind of cool. He tried to hide his grimace as he shifted to get a closer look. Willow shot him a disapproving glare as she reached for his shoulder to steady him. Okay, won't try that again.   
  
No, I don't think you will, Mister. And I'm not just talking about trying to stand up on your own after losing a significant portion of your blood volume...I..I don't want you getting hurt, Xander. I don't know if I...if I could deal with...well...with that. I need you around, okay? He nodded as she squeezed his shoulder and stood up before reaching out to lend him a hand. Let's get you to bed...I think tonight you should sleep with me in the big bed.  
  
Ooh, the _big_ bed! What are the girls going to think? Hey...where's Kennedy going to sleep? He let her do most of the pulling as he stood up on wobbly legs. Is she banished to the floor? He turned to grin and felt her tense at his joking words.  
  
We're not sleeping together, okay? She isn't...she...I don't think about that yet, alright? And anyway, I don't see how that's your business. They made their way out of the bathroom and started towards the room in question, the moment broken between the two old friends.  
  
Oh...sorry, Will. I didn't mean...I just thought with the hand holding... He trailed off. Um...do you have an alarm clock in there? I have work early tomorrow and there's no way I'm getting up on my own.  
  
What?! Xander, you can't go to work! You can barely stand. Willow stopped suddenly and spun around to face him, her face a mixture of disbelief and disapproval. Besides, you'd only get about three hours sleep. You need to call in sick.  
  
He sighed, knowing his weak explanation would make little sense to her. I don't have anymore sick days...used em all up during the tiny terror siege...besides, I have to set a good example for my crew...show em that, even on the hellmouth, a solid work ethic is important.   
  
No. You can't go. I don't want to see you hurt worse just because you're stubborn. She had her resolve face on, never a good sign. Besides, it's not like the world's going to end if _you_ don't go to work.  
  
He swallowed hard, reacting to the implications of her words. No. No, I guess not. Maybe the world won't end, but I'm not going to find out, because I'm going to work tomorrow. He wrenched himself out of her loose grip and turned back to the stairs. I'll be on the couch; I don't want to wake you in the morning. It's been a long night. With that he slowly made his way to the stairwell and started down the stairs.  
  
Behind him, he heard her calling out softly,but he did not turn. He didn't stop until he reached the couch, sinking into the soft cushions and shifting until he found the perfect position with the least amount of pain. He didn't know why he'd reacted to Willow that way, but it was too hard to think of it now...it was too hard to think of anything; to keep his eyes open. But with his eyes closed he could see it; still see the seal with his blood dripping slowly into the cracks and crevices.  
  


He opened his eyes and stared at the blank expanse of ceiling for a long time.


	2. The Day After

Title: O God, thou wilt not despise (2/?)  
Author: Loraineee  
E-mail: jennyb@Kpunet.net  
Summary: A post-First Date character study  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: Some angst, primarily in later chapters  
Spoilers: Takes place after episode 7.14 First Date  
Archive: Sure, just let me know  
Disclaimer: These characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy  
Author's Notes: This is my first Buffy fanfiction, so be kind...I'm easily freaked.  
  
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Do it again! I think I saw him move.  
  
No, he was just twitching. Xander is a twitchy sleeper. See, he's not moving now. The twitching was just a side-effect of the sleep.   
  
That was definitely not a twitch. Hey, what do you think he's wearing under that blanket.  
  
Dawn! Don't touch that. Only I get to see his chest...or _did_ get to see his chest. Aren't you supposed to be at school?  
  
It's like 7:30. I don't need to be there until 7:45. I've got a few min...hey! He's twitching again.  
  
Oh my God! He's not twitching; he's laughing. He's awake. Xander, you're awake. The ex-demon nudged her former fiancee's broad shoulders. How long have you been awake?  
  
Okay first, ow! And second, long enough to hear you talking about my chest. He stretched carefully, maneuvering into a sitting position. What time is it?  
  
I thought you were listening. It's 7:30, you big doof. Dawn grinned widely as she scooted off the end of the couch to make room for Xander's swinging legs.   
  
I was...I guess I just got confused. You know, because of the pain. He smoothed down his sleep induced mohawk and yawned. Hey, I'm not hearing the pitter-patter of large, teenaged feet. Where are the Potentials? Did Buffy take them out on a super secret training mission...and more importantly, did they leave me any breakfast? Cause I didn't have a chance to eat last night.  
  
No, I don't guess you would have. What with your demon date stringing you up and bleeding you dry and all...but who didn't see _that _coming? snarked Anya, surprising herself with the venom inherent in her voice. Sometimes, being a human was infuriating. She never knew what she would feel about a given situation. Her eyes softened as she saw Xander's quizzical expression. Um...Buffy and the girls left with Willow this morning for some mountain...all-terrain training drills or something. Oh, and Willow was going to do a locater spell to see if your demoness had any friends hanging around.  
  
Xander winced as he pulled himself up off the couch, stopping just short of standing. Damn, his shoulders were sore too. Bonus though, that Principal Wood had gotten him off the wheel before they were dislocated. That was good, right? He could be feeling worse. Okay, another locator spell. That makes like, what? 900 of them? I don't remember Willow doing this many locator spells. Even as he complained, relief washed over him. He wouldn't have to fight with her about going into work this morning. Speaking of...I better get going. I need to stop by my apartment before I head in. And Dawn, you better get moving. Just because Buffy isn't here, doesn't mean you get to be late for school.  
  
You're working? Are you sure you're okay? Xander, you were just stabbed! This time, it was the shrill edge of her concern that surprised her.  
  
Yeah, have to be there. He smiled apologetically at Anya, hoping to avoid another confrontation. It was his decision, damn it!   
  
Take it easy, okay? Make your crew do all the heavy lifting. Dawn sighed and started for the door, grabbing her book bag from beside the couch. I gotta book. See you tonight!  
  
Xander stood up and joined her by the door, looking back at Anya. I'll be fine. Will patched me up and I'm on some really good painkillers. Plus, I'll do what she said, have my guys do all the heavy lifting. He reached to open the door for Dawn, cutting off Anya's feeble protest before it started. Of course, I should probably put a shirt on before I leave. Also, Dawn, do you want a ride?  
  
Sure, that'd be great. You want me to wait in the car? Xander nodded, and Dawn bounced off to Xander's auto.   
  
Right...now to find shirt and make graceful exit. Oh, yeah. Shirt gone forever. But...yes...coat on bathroom floor.  
  
He turned back to Anya, smiling reassuringly. I'll see you later, Anya. Be sure you take advantage of the empty house...well, mostly empty, I guess Andrew and Spike are still here somewhere. And don't worry, I really will be fine. With that, he headed up the stairs to grab his forgotten coat, wondering just when he stopped caring about Spike being alone with her.  
  
Anya was gone when he returned.  
  
*****************************************  
  
Futility, thy name is Xander.' He thought as he opened the door to his empty apartment. Not five minutes into his shift and, boom, torrential downpour. There would be no work on the library today. He threw his keys on the sidetable and stopped just inside the door, surveying his long neglected abode. Eh, he'd seen worse. Just some...okay a lot of dust, but on the whole it was tidy; Spike had made sure of that during his second short tenure as Xander's roommate. He may have left his towels on the floor, but he couldn't abide a messy sitting room. Or maybe that was another trigger from the First. Maybe it was afraid of a little dust. Heh. He'd have to tell Willow about that one...if she would listen.  
  
Does she even like me anymore?' he wondered as he wandered further into the entryway, his attention drawn to the blinking light on his outdated answering machine. This was strange. Work had his cell number and everyone else, well, he was living with everyone else right now. He sighed and hit the play button; it was probably a telemarketing call.  
  
The machine whirred to life, letting him know that the message had been received more than a month ago.   
  
Xander? Are you there? Huh, it sounded strangely like his mother. This is your mother. And so it was. Listen, if you get this message, give me a call. Your father and I have something we need to discuss with you. It's kind of urgent. There was a long pause. Oh screw it. I doubt you'll care that much anyway. Your father and I are getting a divorce and I'm moving to Arizona. I don't know if Tony plans to stay in Sunnydale but I couldn't care less. That bastard can stay here and rot for all I care. Anyway, kisses! I'll call soon with my new address. Beep.  
  
Love you too, he thought. Christ, news of his parent's divorce on an answering machine message. What was next, learning of his grandma's death by postcard?   
  
He stumbled into the kitchen, daring a peek into the fridge and grabbing a beer, the only thing without a thick layer of gray fuzz. If he ever had the chance to live here again, he'd have to clean that out. He rifled through the cupboard for a glass and walked over to the couch, sitting down carefully but still feeling his insides burn as the movement pulled against his gut. Time for some more happy pills...those two T3s he'd taken earlier just weren't going to cut it, no siree. He poured his drink and silently toasted his parents. This was really....unexpected. He idly wondered if he it was weird that he didn't feel worse about it.  
  
As he sat there sipping his beer and waiting for the fuzziness to kick in, he suddenly thought of how Anya's constant chatter used to fill the apartment and the desperate contrast of the stillness here now. He would never tell Buffy this, but he was kind of glad for the distraction of Spike moving in, even if the vampire was crazy...anything to end the interminable silence.  
  
This last summer had been the first time he'd ever been alone, truly alone. No Willow calling to check in almost every night; no Anya dropping by for a visit.' Even Buffy had kept her distance, preferring to spend her time training Dawn and regaining her equilibrium. Sure, he'd been over at least twice a week for pizza and movie nights, but those other five days, left to his own devices in an empty apartment. They were dark times indeed. He thought it would improve with Willow returned, but she could barely look at him, much less be bothered to check in regularly.   
  
In his youth, he would have given anything for a moment alone, away from the harsh din of his life. His parents fighting at night; the inane schoolboy chatter by day. During his Beat stage, he thought he could find that silence on the open road. He could have saved himself the trouble of the Ladies' Night' debacle, if he knew then what he knew now. The quiet was overrated.   
  
In between pondering the demise of his parent's marriage and the failure of his almost marriage, he felt the drug-induced bleariness kick in and slipped off into a heavy sleep.  
  
When he woke up, the apartment was dark.  
  



	3. Back of my Hand Post Chosen

Title: Back of my Hand  
Rating: PG  
Pairing: None  
Warnings: None  
Timeframe: Summer after season 7  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters; I'm just playing for a while.  
  
  
In spite of the stories built up around the ultimate friendship of the scoobies, mostly told by Andrew to less than interested slayers, their parting was ultimately mundane. The new slayers headed back to homes left behind in the dead of night with exciting new powers and carefully rehearsed stories for their families.   
  
Kennedy and Andrew, like costars of the strangest buddy cop movie ever made, declared their intention to guard the Cleveland hellmouth and left behind a strangely relieved, if a little confused, Willow. Faith and Wood, lost in the beginning of their new relationship, agreed to follow and keep an eye on the odd couple. Giles left for England; intent on accessing the network of watcher's left in remote areas around the world and visiting every last archaic bookstore to build the new library. Buffy and Dawn spent days planning their epic road trip, heads huddled together over the map on the bed, giggling about long-forgotten cousins and sister secrets. One sunny day in June, the pair loaded their car, leaving Willow and Xander on the sidewalk waving as the tiny used escort faded into the distance.  
  
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_We'll send you a postcard from all the strange roadside attractions. A picture of the world's largest fork has to be worth something. And it's just for the summer, right? I mean, we gotta form the newer, better Watcher's Council. Dawn pulled her to the car as Buffy continued babbling. You've got the cell number and our travel plans and...Dawn, let go! Bye, guys! You know I love you and I...just have a good summer, all right?  
_  
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Willow and Xander were together in a strange land and sleeping in the same bed again, chaste as the five year olds who bonded over their love of Rainbow Brite. They settled back into familiar patterns; snarking over pay-per-view movies in the hotel, braiding hair, picking green peppers off Willow's slice while she picked the sausage off his, and talking about everything they'd avoided in the last three years of drama.   
  
But there were differences as well. Neither of them ever thought they'd overhear the other arguing with insurance companies and unions about catastrophic coverage and whether or not earthquakes were covered. Or searching through want ads in all 50 states for a position that didn't care about a missing eye or lack of references. And Willow didn't remember hearing Xander cry through the bathroom door during their idyllic childhood, except that time Larry killed the 2nd grade hamster. They needed each other.  
  
It was perfect and it couldn't last.  
  
**********************************  
_  
  
  
Yes, Xander?  
  
I found a job. Her eyes lit up, mouth open and ready for squealing. Don't freak out yet.  
  
  
  
It's kind of far but it pays well and they're paying the moving costs. Plus a company car. And housing. It's really a pretty good deal. My union set it up and I--  
  
How far?  
  
It's kind of...really far.  
  
And yet again, I ask how far? With a preemptive doofus, doofus.  
  
Just remember, it's only for the summer and you have summer school at UCLA anyway and we'll be able to talk all the time on the phone and I'll be back in August for Buffy and Dawn's triumphant return.  
  
Glare.  
  
It's in Alaska. Fairbanks to be exact. Land of the midnight sun. 24 hours of daylight._  
  
******************************  
  
His crew had been repaving the endless stretches of highway cutting a path through the wildest forest Xander had ever seen. Working as a flagger, while mind numbingly boring, paid almost as well as overseeing his carpentry team back in Sunnydale. But the hours spent waiting on rows of cars gave the mind time to wander. And Xander's mind was stuck in the past.   
  
Xander was Fairbanks for three weeks before he ventured out into the midnight sunshine. His sleep cycle was fucked due to the relentless sunshine, so he figured a little recreation probably couldn't hurt. The streets filled with families as he neared the playing field and Xander carefully adjusted his eye patch before stepping through the turnstile. Clemmy from work said this was the place for hip and happening residents of Fairbanks; midnight baseball at Growden Park watching the Goldpanners play ball without the aid of artificial light.  
  
Willow called from her dorm room yesterday and commented on Xander's homebody-ness. She insisted he leave his tiny studio apartment and get to work on frontiering that last frontier.  
  
******************************  
_  
  
  
Hey, Xander! Seen a moose yet?  
  
Willow! Hey. No moose sightings so far, but I've got my fingers crossed. Here's hoping. He grinned when he heard the familiar giggles on the other end of the line. I did see a dead cat today when we paved mile two hundred and fifty three, does that count for anything?  
  
Eew. And no. Only a moose will do, or possibly a bear, or a herd of caribou. Anyway, you should be out exploring. You're always home when I call.  
  
So are you.  
  
Well, I've got an excuse. I'm catching up on a semester and a half of schoolwork. I'm library girl or dorm girl depending on what time it is. You're footloose and fancy free; go sow some oats.  
  
I don't know--if I can do that yet. It's hard right now. I can't sleep without dreaming about her.  
  
She heard him sigh. How are you really doing?  
  
Seriously? I feel like Al Pacino in that movie...the one where he goes crazy because of the sun. Seriously, Wil, it's crazy. But I've found a solution. He paused for effect, stealthily avoiding Willow's question. Tin foil.  
  
She sighed, but fell back into her role. You know, Xander. Aliens can hear your thoughts right through the tinfoil. But if it makes you feel safe, I guess. To each his ow--  
  
For the windows, you doof! To block out the light.  
  
Just kidding. And Xander?  
  
  
  
You really need to get out more. See yourself a moose or two.  
_  
********************************  
  
At the top of the second, Xander settled into his seat with a cold alaskan ale and a reindeer sausage on a bun that looked suspiciously like a regular hot dog. The game was better than he expected and the stadium was filled to capacity with every manner of person. A perfect day for baseball even if it was the middle of the night. Number 33 hit a double and the Goldpanners were up by three before being tagged out as he tried to steal third.  
  
Wait. Are we supposed to be cheering here? And why are they leaving the field? Is the game over?  
  
Xander turned to his left and looked bemusedly at the woman chattering next to him. Are you talking to me?  
  
Yes, I am. You seem to understand what's going on out there. He scooted backward so he wouldn't have to turn his head so far. Hi. I'm Sequoia and yes, I know that's the name of an SUV. Blame my parents; they're the hippies.  
  
Xander. And I think it's a perfectly...okay, I can't think of anything to say here. It's a strange name. But I am Xander, so I guess I shouldn't talk. She smiled and touched his forearm. Are you sure you're not a d--not familiar with the game? She nodded and he spent the rest of the game explaining the intricacies of America's game.  
  
There was no tinfoil on her bedroom windows and Xander slipped out of the apartment without leaving his number. On the long drive home, he saw his first moose.  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
